


But You Do Have A Gun

by nicolai



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Acceptance, Anal Fingering, Bottom!Kanji, Boys Kissing, Consensual Non-Consent, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom!Naoto, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, FTM Naoto, Feminization, Gay Sex, Gender Dysphoria, Graphic Description, Gun Kink, Gunplay, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mild Gore, Rape Fantasy, Self-Acceptance, Sub!Kanji, Top!Naoto, Trans Naoto, Transgender Naoto, Vaginal Fingering, consent talk, gunfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6481330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolai/pseuds/nicolai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanji wants Naoto to fuck him with a gun, as it sounds fun and dangerous, and seems better than using a strap on to Kanji. Naoto is happy to do so. Kanji gets aroused talking about it and goes to shower to take care of that. They do it later that night, with Kanji giving Naoto pleasure as well. Ends with them snuggling and Naoto being happy that Kanji accepts him being trans so thoroughly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discussion

**Author's Note:**

> As a trans person, trans Naoto is extremely important to me. I don't want to hear any objection to that headcanon. If you want to read about cis Naoto, go read something else.

“So, like, I know you ain’t got a dick,” Kanji broke the silence I was using to concentrate on my case file with a vulgar, but obvious observation. 

“That’s correct…” I look over at him, sprawled on my couch, raising up on one arm to smile at me. 

“Right, but like, you do have a gun,” his cheeks color with a blush, but his smile is earnest and hopeful. 

Social convention isn’t always my strong suit, certainly, but I’d be hard pressed to find someone who wouldn’t be baffled by that set of statements. I don’t have a penis, but I do have a gun? Whatever could that mean? I have known my share of police officers, and criminals for that matter, who do view a gun as a symbol of inherent masculinity. They’re off put by those who aren’t men having them, they often compare size and potency in the same way juvenile males compare organic equipment and virility. So, is Kanji trying to say that I’m man enough due to my weapon? Surely not. He knows that I hold no such illusions about the meaning of tools, I present myself as a boy because I am one, that’s how I feel and want to be seen, but I know my biology differs from that expected of a boy, but I’m not using objects to fill the void, as it were. None of them, in fact, though a packer would be more appropriate than a pistol. No, he must mean something else. But I doubt I’ll puzzle it out without further questions. 

“What are you trying to say, Kanji?” I smile exasperatedly at his slight disappointment; I can’t believe he thought he was being clear with that, but it shouldn’t be surprising, words aren’t his forte. 

“Well, you don’t have one, but I’d want it to be you, like, really you, not just a thing. But your gun is really, I dunno, personal? So, maybe you could use it instead?” he shrugs, chuckling a bit, “Just a dumb idea, but I like it.”

My mouth is open to ask for more explanation before it hits me that he’s talking about sexual acts. He wants me to use my gun where I would use my penis, if I had one. My face goes pink and hot and an unfortunately undignified squeak emits from my throat. We don’t often talk at length about the sexual component of our relationship, and certainly not out of the blue like that. I have no issue discussing intimate matters when necessary, but I find language a bit lacking when it comes to acceptable words to use for those things, so it’s better if those talks are a little vague and contained. 

“You want me to penetrate you with my gun?” I take a deep breath and smile reassuringly; my surprise may have been read as disapproval and I’m not at all disapproving. I imagine I could become quite comfortable with the idea, provided appropriate precautions were in place. 

He drops all hints of insecurity and nods enthusiastically, his excitement nearly tangible on the air, “Yeah! Like, I wanna suck it and you to fuck me with it!” after last year’s events, Kanji has been steadily embracing more of himself and it’s good to see him be so plain and confident, “Like, you could be rough with me. Get me how I can’t fight back and make me do it. That kinda stuff, you know?” 

I’m also a bit surprised by that, “Kanji, I thought Yu was the only person you were interested in power exchange with?”

“I thought so too, but like, I want this with you. A lot. Oh! And like, I don’t wanna know if the safety is on or it ain’t loaded or whatever. I wanna feel like it’s dangerous.”

That’s interesting as well. He wants to feel unsafe. While, of course, being safe. I wonder if this isn’t a new outlet for thrill seeking. Since we stopped all of the murders and things, I wonder if he hasn’t been bored. Especially not being allowed to go beat up on biker gangs anymore. He’s got that sort of personality, a thirst for action and excitement. I must confess, I feel that way as well sometimes. But I have my cases. Kanji’s life is being quite ordinary. Perhaps I should try to arrange more intense activities for him. In addition to the one he’s requested, of course. 

“Alright. That sounds like a good time, Kanji. Would you like to try it tonight?” 

“Hell yeah!” he grins and pumps his fist in the air, a trademark sign of enthusiasm. 

“Hmm, I think I can work out the details for us alone. If you trust me, that is.” my mind is already going on so many plans and ways to do this, honestly it does sound very enjoyable, and I have a feeling he’ll appreciate me adding to the scene this way. 

His eyes widen, and I can see his pupils dilate as well. A quick glance down tells me all I need to know about his feelings on the matter, they’re clear in the way his pants seem tighter, and a quick nod confirms his consent. 

“Alright. The safe word is “red” then, that’s what you say if you want everything to stop. Say “yellow” if I need to check in or slow down. And “green” if you want to tell me that everything is good. We’ll pretend I’m forcing you into all of it, with the gun,” I instruct him carefully, watching to make sure he understands what I’m saying, “We’ll start around 8 tonight. I have to finish this file and prepare a few things. I’ll want you just lounging around the living room then. Understood?” 

He nods quickly, palming himself over his jeans and tugging the fabric looser. 

“The shower’s free if you want to take care of that,” I smile at him before going back to my file as he quickly shuffles to the bathroom.


	2. Shower Time

These damn jeans are cutting into my dick and I can’t get them off fast enough once I’m alone. I didn’t know just hearing Naoto agree to it and talk a little would be enough to get me going. But man, am I revved up and ready to go. Things are gonna get wild tonight and I can’t wait. I toss my clothes in a heap by the door and put a towel on the rack beside the shower.

It’s a good idea to take a shower now anyhow, I like to empty my balls before we have sex a lot of the time so I can last longer before I cum with him. I know he won’t care if I cum in three seconds or not, but I like to do a lot before that part. And yanno, getting clean’s a good idea too, especially if something’s going in my ass. 

It’ll be the first time it’s anything bigger than a finger or two and I’m a little nervous, but it was hot as fuck when I was jacking off to the idea earlier. I turn on the shower, get the room all hot and steamy and step inside. I like that his shower has a door instead of a curtain, it really traps the steam better, and it feels like you’re in a little box. More… secure, that way. 

My cock is rock hard and aching, but I ignore it for just long enough to wash my hair and put conditioner in it, so that’ll soak in while I scrub off and rub one out. Naoto likes to grab my hair when we kiss, so I like to keep it soft for him. I’ve been working out more recently, since Naoto let me bring some weights and stuff over to keep myself from bugging him when he’s busy. It shows on my shoulders, they look great! And I can feel it when I pick him up too. Last week, I hoisted him up to hang from the bar I have for pull ups while I sucked him off and it barely felt like I was lifting anything. I mean, yeah, Naoto’s thin, but still. It’s a little weird to call that sucking off, ‘cause like, there’s not much there to suck and there’s more licking, but we got it worked out how it feels good and it’s mostly the same, I think. 

That’s a great memory to focus on for this and I start jerking it while I soap up. I love how Naoto’s thighs feel pressing against my cheeks while my mouth works him. And I love how he twists his hips when it gets intense. Especially if he ain’t wearing nothing but a binder and I can see how taut his stomach gets. Usually the angle means my chin gets wet when he cums and I like that too. I’ve got all the soap worked into a lather in no time and my cock’s leaking all over the floor of the shower. 

Thinking about the gun again makes me harder, and a little bit concerned if it’ll fit. Can I even get three fingers in there? No time like now to try I guess, soap is slippery enough. I reach back to my ass and put one finger against the hole. God that’s sensitive. I shove it in and don’t feel so great about my impatience, but it’s good too, not just hurting. Stretching myself open is different, my hands are bigger and not as gentle as Naoto’s, but this is cool. I push in and out and stroke and tug my cock at the same time. After I feel a little looser, I add the second finger and it goes in easier. I guess the friction was the hardest part. I reach farther in and try to do that thing Naoto does, where it curves, but it’s the opposite angle, so it takes some work. When I get it, it’s got that same electric feeling. I meant to try to fit three fingers in, but too soon I’m cumming over my other hand, so I guess I’ll just have to trust him to make sure it works out. That’s okay. 

I rinse off slowly. After I cum, I always like to take my time and enjoy how my body feels. I feel warm and a little drowsy, relaxed and stuff, but also light and good. I cup the water in my hands and rinse everything well. It’s good to feel my muscles and stuff like this too. I like my body. It would be cool to have stronger arms and legs and stuff, but they’re already great. I rinse my hair too, pulling through it with my fingers to make sure all the conditioner is gone. I love how smooth and silky it is. After I’m clean and soap free, I stand under the water for a minute, just relaxing and enjoying it. 

Once the water is getting colder, I shut it off and grab my towel. Wrapped up in it, I check how I look in the mirror. The roots of my hair are dark again, I’ll have to put more bleach on soon. My eyebrows look a little messy too, so I grab the tweezers from behind the mirror and neaten them up. I remember when my Ma taught me how to pluck them. It was funny, I was 12 or so, just a kid, and I had plucked them into this ridiculous straight line. It looked so dumb. So, once they grew back, she showed me how to find the arch that was supposed to be there, and just take in everything to that line. Everything else looks good and I dry off and get dressed quickly, then walk back out. 

“Naoto, I’m gonna use the bed for a nap, okay?” I ask, realizing how drowsy I still feel. 

“Alright. I’ll order take out at 7 and wake you then,” he doesn’t look up at me and it makes me smile; I don’t understand a bit of it, really, but I love to watch him work. 

“Love ya,” I call over my shoulder, going in to lie down. 

“Love you too, Kanji,” he answers, not looking up still, I’m sure. 

The bed is just too comfortable, even in it alone, and I barely have time to settle under the blanket before I’m falling asleep.


	3. Doing It

My case review was finished shortly after Kanji went to take a nap and I used the time to quickly prepare everything I needed for our activities tonight. I cleared off the kitchen table, got some rope, and duct tape, and lubricant, of course. I also unloaded my gun and put the ammunition in a drawer. I can’t imagine doing this with a loaded gun, that would be lunacy, but I won’t say anything about that to him. I’ll leave the safety on for a while, then click it off when I’m sure he’ll hear it at an opportune moment. I woke him up when food arrived and we enjoyed a pleasant dinner without talking about what we were going to do after. I could see he was looking forward to it, of course. And now I’m lurking in the kitchen, waiting for him to get good and settled in front of the television before I strike. I didn’t expect to find this so exciting, stalking my prey, waiting for him to feel secure before ripping that security away. I’ve known this style of pattern for quite a long time, of course. Rapes, kidnappings, murder, sometimes they have motives and methods like these, but I’ve not really but myself so emotionally in this position before; I rather enjoy it. I’m sure society has little to fear from me though, the idea of doing something like this without his consent positively turns my stomach. 

Ah, he’s yawning again, second time in a minute, now’s the time! I step out from the kitchen quietly, pulling my gun up to aim directly at him. 

“Get down on your knees!” I’m yelling, not loud enough to be heard outside, that would be the last thing we needed, but loud enough to startle him, “Put your hands on your head! Do it now!” I hope my voice carries all the authority I mean for it to, these commands are ones you might hear in any arrest and I’ve had plenty of practice, both in front of the mirror and occasionally in the field. 

His face goes ashen and he drops off the edge of the couch onto his knees, holding his hands up, looking questioning. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly open. It’s a genuine fear he’s feeling and it shows plainly, but underneath, I can see plain arousal and pleasure, as well as warmth towards me; I suppose that’s trust. 

I stride over to him and kick the coffee table aside, as though it won’t be me cleaning this up later. It knocks over, sending a few chicken bones from dinner clattering over my floor and a cup of sauce spilling around them. Keeping the gun trained on him with one hand, I reach over and pull the coverlet away from him, as it was still partially covering his legs. 

“Do you have a weapon, tough guy?” I ask, keeping a sinister smile on my face, “I know you don’t have one of these,” I wave my gun in his face, “But a blade? Anything?” 

He shakes his head quickly, “Wha? No!” 

I know he does, he has a pocket knife in his jean’s pocket. But I don’t know if he’s forgotten about it or if he meant to be lying to me. Either way, my reaction in this role is the same. I aim my foot carefully at his side and kick him sharply. Enough to hurt, but not enough to knock the wind out of him. 

“Don’t lie to me!” I shout, leaning closer to his face and reaching for the pocket I know it’s in. I draw it out without difficulty and hold it up for him to see, “What’s this?”

He starts to answer, but I put the barrel of my gun to his lips, “Doesn’t matter. But I’ll be keeping it,” the ease at which I manage a malicious chuckle is a little frightening, “Maybe it’ll come in handy later. On your feet!” I step back so he can stand up and when he does, I see that he’s both shaking, and fully erect under his pants. 

“Walk in front of me, we’re going in there,” I gesture to the kitchen with my gun, and follow him in when we walk inside. I’ve put the lube away in a drawer, so he’s greeted with the sight of the kitchen table pushed into the middle of the room, a roll of duct tape on the left side of it and a length of rope on the right. 

“What the-?” His confusion is real, he wasn’t consulted about these plans, but I hope he likes the scene. We can try something else later if he isn’t into it. 

“Walk forward until you hit the table, then spread your legs, I want your feet touching the legs,” I’m glad he’s tall, this wouldn’t work if he wasn’t. 

“What?! No!” he whirls around to fight, but I’m ready and my knuckles drive into his sternum seconds before my gun collides with his cheek; I try to be gentle, but I can see the bruise already starting on his face before he covers it with his hand. 

I feel slightly uneasy about marking him up, but he doesn’t say “red” or even “yellow,” so I continue. When someone like Kanji says to be rough, you can only assume they mean it. He’s leaning forward and holding his cheek and chest, so I drive a quick kick into his stomach, then whirl him around on the table. 

“Don’t try that again,” I laugh, “Or I’ll use my gun a different way. Now, spread your legs!”

I hear a stifled moan as he obeys me, leaning most of his weight on the table. I grab the duct tape and begin wrapping it around his calves and the table legs, binding him securely to the wood. I wrap it tightly and span most of the distance between his ankles and knees, keeping the gun on him all the while, in his line of sight. 

“That’s a good boy. Nice legs too. And body in general. This is going to be fun,” I laugh, walking around the table, and taking the length of rope, “Alright, put your hands together and stretch them out to me.”

Kanji has slightly longer arms than I was planning on, so I have to adjust the plan a little. My table isn’t the wide, so I’m going to have to find a way to bind them to the floor there (likely impossible) or double back under the table and hope he can still breathe okay. The second one seems most likely to work, so I begin winding the rope around each wrist, then together. Keeping the tie individual means he won’t be able to pivot out of it by twisting his wrists against each other a certain way. Once his wrists are secure, I pull the rope under the table and back towards his body. He’ll have to keep his shoulders flexed to avoid too much pressure on his elbows, but his arms do reach fully under the table. He groans as I loop the rope around his waist and tie it tightly. This position must hurt considerably, but from the way he’s slightly shifting his hips against the edge of the table, I’d say he enjoys it. 

“Oh my, you do look pretty like that,” I laugh, all the moreso when he bristles at the implicitly feminine compliment, he struggles a bit and looks genuinely surprised to find exactly how stuck he is.   
“I ain’t pretty! I’m a man!” he shouts at me, freezing when my hands go around his waist and unbutton his pants, edging them down to expose him. 

“Of course you’re a man, unless of course, I say you’re not,” I laugh, leaning over to where he can see the gun aimed at his forehead, “I could make you say you’re a pretty girl, couldn’t I?” 

“What?! No!” Kanji’s mannerisms can be a bit on the animalistic side, especially when he’s really angry or really happy, but it makes me laugh that he actually snarls at me. 

I check to make sure his eyes are on the gun and slowly slide the safety off, it has a particularly satisfying click. His eyes widen again, where a second before they’d been narrowed in anger, and based on how he struggles to swallow, his mouth has gone dry. I have no interest in feminizing him, he wouldn’t be into it and questioning someone’s gender feels a bit intense for me, but I want to show him how helpless he is. It will make the rest of this feel a lot more real and significant for him. As long as he doesn’t use the safeword, I will press this as far as I have to. 

“Say it, Kanji. Tell me that you’re a pretty girl,” I instruct calmly. 

“N-no,” he looks down at the floor and mumbles, his tone is pleading and I can see tears start in his eyes. I shouldn’t surprise me that he’s consenting to something this intense, but I feel weird about making him cry. 

Switching to my normal tone, I ask “Consent check?”

“Green.” his response is immediate and he grins at me, the motion causing the welling tears to slip from his lids and down his cheeks. 

Nodding quickly, I resume the forceful, cold persona, putting the barrel of my gun between his eyes, “Last chance, Kanji. If you aren’t going to do what I tell you, no matter what it is, I will pull this trigger and decorate the refrigerator with your blood, brains, skull fragments, and pretty blonde hair.”

That last comment reminds me of how Kanji looked in the drag pageant. He was really stunning. I should try to get him to do drag again some time. He definitely enjoyed it and I think some connection with femininity is good for him. 

I hear his breath catch and he starts crying in earnest, tears streaming down his face and dripping down into the floor. He nods and sobs out, “I’m a pretty g-girl!”

I see his shoulders go slack and he melts into the table. I know that is making his arms hurt more, but it’s a good physical representation of his struggle being over. He won’t fight me. Perfect.   
“Open your mouth,” I direct, reaching over to pet his hair; as wonderfully soft as it always is. When he complies, I slip the barrel of my gun through his lips. 

“Suck this for me… I’m sure you know what I mean,” I grin, glad to pull off my confusion as to exactly how to word this as just expecting to be obeyed without having explained myself properly. 

Kanji goes at it with characteristic zest, licking over the metal and sucking on the tip. I watch his tongue as it lines the rim of the opening and flicks over the shaft. Having never put my gun in my mouth, I can only wonder at what it tastes like. Gun oil? Metal? I keep it quite clean, so there shouldn’t be much residue on it. The tears stop at some point while he does this. To make sure he keeps feeling appropriately vulnerable, I grab his hair, pulling gently. 

“Open wide,” I direct and force the gun back to his throat, then thrust it in and out, simulating particularly rough oral sex. 

He keeps his mouth open but coughs and gags on it, saliva pools in his mouth and runs down his chin. He starts crying again as I push it back and hold it there, nearly choking him. After quite a while and my gun being as wet as I can imagine it getting with only spit to work with, I jerk it away, careful not to hit his teeth too hard. 

“I think it’s time to put this somewhere else, don’t you?” I reach back and rest my hand on Kanji’s posterior, moving a finger to his entrance, to make my meaning perfectly clear. 

“Oh w-wow,” he mumbles, trying to catch his breath, “It’s t-too big, isn’t it?” He tries to turn and look at me, but I’ve already gone to get the lubricant, behind him and out of sight. 

“I certainly hope not. It’s going where I want it. You’ll just have to adjust,” I chuckle, “Or tear, perhaps. It doesn’t make any difference to me.” Of course I would never actually injure him that way, but the threat makes him shiver, and pre-ejaculatory fluid drips from his penis, so I think it was the right thing to say. 

Walking back behind him, I squirt some of the lubricant over the gun and some onto my finger tips. I smear it over his entrance, pushing and prodding gently with my fingers first. If this is going to fit, it’s going to take some preparation, but I want to be quick about it, as he isn’t going to last too long in this state. 

He pushes back against my hand as I work him loose and I allow it, not at all bothered by his input. As long as he’s facilitating what I’m doing, no need to pull a power play here. I’m going for victim, not robot. It’s a small struggle to get a fourth finger inside, but once it is, I gently, but steadily, spread my hand and pump it in and out a few times. That’s the best I can do. I pull my hand out and position the gun against him. He freezes and tenses everything. 

“No, relax. Or it will hurt a lot worse, alright? Take a deep breath and relax,” I tell him, patting his back. 

Kanji does as he’s told and I slowly push the gun in. He groans as his body stretches around it. I give him a moment to adjust, so I can be reasonably certain nothing will tear. Once I start moving, I set a brutal rhythm, jerking it in and out hard and fast. His vocalizations are a mix of moaning and crying out. He can’t seem to pick whether to flinch away or push back against me and keeps doing both in succession, though neither is especially effective with him tied this way. 

“Oh fuck, it hu-hurts, it’s good, Naoto!” he gasps, arching his back, “I’m gonna-?” the question in his voice is unmistakeable, but I wasn’t expecting it. 

Nonetheless, “It’s alright, go ahead,” I assure him calmly, keeping up the motion with the gun. 

He reaches orgasm with a shout, “Hell yeah!” It’s odd to hear that tone without him pumping his fist or jumping, but it’s the same one; happy, victorious. 

He goes limp across the table and I withdraw the gun and lay it in the sink on my way to get the scissors to cut him free. I work quickly, freeing his wrists and helping him pull his arms back and stand up straight, then cutting the tape to free his legs. He rolls his shoulders back and bends his elbows a few times, working out the stiffness. He drop his pants instead of pulling them up, sensible to keep them clean, but not often what he does, then turns and hugs me in the way that crushes me into his chest and lifts me off the ground. He’s stopped crying, but his face is still wet, and he’s beaming. 

“Naoto, that was great!” he exclaims. 

“I had fun too. I need to clean my gun though,” I laugh and kiss his cheek. 

“Whoa, not yet. I wanna get you off too!” he protests and I smile at how often he’s the one to remember my pleasure, when we do things like this; part of me always wants to view sexual conduct as goal oriented and I forget to stop to enjoy it for myself as well sometimes. 

“Okay, great,” I agree, and then he’s putting me down on the table, laying me back, and pulling my pants down to my knees. I don’t look down because I’m not entirely comfortable with what I’ll see. I haven’t decided if I want surgery or not, but for now it’s enough for me not to generally think about it. 

I hadn’t realized my physical response to what I’d been doing was so strong, but everything is nicely lubricated when he pushes two fingers inside me and rubs the pad of his thumb over me. My thoughts aren’t that specific by design, I do not like the words for those parts of my body, they all seem wrong, especially gender-wise. Kanji suggested I call them by the analogous names, not that he used that word, but it seems inaccurate and dishonest. I can’t call a clitoris a penis and expect people to agree. Even if it is the same. Kanji would though, he says it’s fine… Now’s not the time for thinking about this though. I have that problem too, relaxing and enjoying myself instead of thinking about everything. 

“Naoto,” Kanji calls my attention. 

“Hm?”

“Relax, would ya? You look like you’re trying to build an H-bomb in there,” he taps my forehead with his other hand. 

I laugh, though it’s cut short when he presses his lips against mine and I feel overwhelmed with sensation as his fingers move faster and faster. As usual, I orgasm quite quickly and end up breathless and clinging to him. He scoops me up again and carries me to the couch, sitting down with me in his lap and holding me close. I suppose I can delay cleaning up for a little while to cuddle. It is so nice to be in his arms. 

“I love you, Naoto,” he says, kissing my cheek, “You are the perfect man for me.”

He misses the tear that leaks from my eye, and it’s a good thing because it would be hard to explain that it’s a good thing. It’s just that I don’t doubt myself so much when he says things like that. He validates my being transgender in those simple statements all the time. He treats me like a boy, like a man, and he loves me as one, even though it means accepting that he loves a man. It’s a journey to accept yourself, even if it starts with a leap, the little steps still mean a lot and it’s easier to accept each other, I think. But we’ve both come so far and I know we’ll lose the rest of this insecurity. 

“I love you too, Kanji. Thanks for saying that. I’m glad you think of me that way, and not like a girl,” I snuggle against him, burying my face in his neck and smelling my conditioner on his hair. 

“Shoot Naoto, you ain’t nothin’ like a girl,” he laughs at the absurdity of the idea, like my birth assignment and body mean nothing to him, and I guess they don’t. 

“I love you,” I tell him again, and cut off his answer with a kiss, I know it was just going to be “I love you too.”


End file.
